


The Moment Of Truth

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Series: The Lynda Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-20
Updated: 1999-02-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Lynda graduates from the Academy. This story is a sequel toHave Yourself A Very Due South Christmas.





	The Moment Of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Moment of Truth 

by Jackie   
  


Lynda stood in her bedroom, alone. She looked at her reflection in her full-length mirror. Standing there in her police uniform with her dark blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, Lynda looked so much older than her nineteen years. 

"Come on, Lynda!" her father shouted from the living room. "We're going to be late." 

"Just a second," Lynda replied. She ran her fingers over the badge that was pinned on her chest, her gun that was in a holster on her left hip, and straightened her hat. She smiled, remembering the past few days that led up to this event.   
  


\+ + + +

"It's finally here!" Lynda squealed with happiness as she bounded into the Squad Room. Dief and Regan, her two favorite wolves, trotted close behind her. Everyone looked up to see the young Civilian Aid carrying some dark clothing in a plastic dry cleaning bag. It could only be one thing. 

Lynda ran over to her father's desk, where he, Ray, and Fraser were talking about something. "Hey, guys, look, it's finally here." 

The three eyed the clothing. Stanley smiled. "Hey, you finally got your uniform, huh?" 

Lynda nodded. "Today, right after class ended." She leaned against Stanley's desk. "Man, I can't believe I'm going to be graduating in two days." 

"I know," Stanley sighed. "It's seems like only yesterday you came into the bullpen, asking for my protection. Now, you're going to be a cop." His lower lip quivered and he began bawling really loudly, pretending to be crying. "Oh, my daughter's growing up!" 

Everyone gave him weird looks, including Welsh as the Lieutenant walked up to the Detective's desk, file in hand. "What is going on here?" 

Stanley straightened up and acted normally again. "Nothing, Sir." 

"Good," Welsh nodded. "I was a little worried I may have had to pull my gun out and shoot you." He noticed Lynda carried her uniform. "Oh, got your uniform, huh, Lynda?" 

"Yes, Sir," Lynda smiled proudly. "Graduation's only two days away." 

"So, is the Detective's Examination," Fraser spoke up. 

"I'm ready for it," Lynda said firmly. 

"We know you are, Lynda," Ray said. "And we're ready for you to join the ranks with us Detectives." 

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Ray ," Lynda replied. "I may not pass it." 

"Sure you will," Welsh said. "You know everything there is to know about being a good cop, and then some. You'll do fine." He handed the file he was holding to Ray. "Oh, here. There was a domestic dispute between a husband and wife a half an hour ago. The husband was shot and killed by the wife. Go and investigate it; find out if the wife should be charged with anything." 

"Will do, Sir," Ray said as Welsh walked back to his office. He opened it up and began reading it, with Stanley and Fraser looking over his shoulder. "Hey, Lynda, run a check on Adam Doyle, the deceased husband, then the wife, Shelly. We're going to go check on the body, get the usual." 

"Roger that," Lynda saluted Ray before walking to her desk, the wolves in tow. 

The Detectives and Fraser walked down to the morgue while Lynda hung her uniform on her coat rack before getting to work on her computer.   
  


* * * *

With the quick action taken by Fraser, Stanley, and Ray, and the sharp computer skills of Lynda, they were able to prove without a doubt that Shelly Doyle had shot her husband in self-defense. As a result, what could have been seen as a murder case was quickly dropped, and Shelly was released. 

The four humans stood in Welsh's office, awaiting approval of the police report that had just been filled out. Assistant State's Attorney Stella Kowalski had also dropped by to check on the status of the case, expecting to find things in disarray. Needless to say, she was surprised to find the case already wrapped up. 

"Once again," Welsh said, removing his reading glasses, "you four have proven to be an effective team. Good job." He handed the papers to Stella. "Everything is in order." 

Stella read the report, then nodded. "Okay. Good job Lynda, Constable, Stanley, Vecchio." She sighed. "Well, I have to get back to work. Bye." She left the office. 

Welsh looked at the four people standing in front of him. "I must say I've never seen such a more promising team. I can only imagine what it will be like when you work out in the field, Lynda." He started to smile, but stopped himself. He cleared his throat and picked up a sheet of paper. "Okay, back to work."   
  


* * * *

The rest of the day was pretty normal, or normal for the 27th District Police Department. Day gave way to night, and soon night gave way to morning. The Squad Room bustled with its usual morning routine. That is, until something out of the ordinary occurred. 

Lynda bolted into the Squad Room like the Devil was after her. She ran up to her father and Ray who were discussing a case. Her shoes skidded on the slick floor and she collided with the two Detectives, all three of them nearly falling to the floor. 

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Ray asked, straightening his Armani jacket. 

"Behind me," Lynda answered as she regained her footing and stood up. "Please don't let them get me." 

"Who?" Stanley asked angrily. 

Lynda pointed to the double doors. "Them." 

Stanley and Ray turned around and stood tall, ready to defend Lynda from any attack. Their eyes bulged out when they saw of bunch of TV reporters and camera crews enter the bullpen. 

"You're scared of a bunch of reporters?" Ray asked. "Oh, that is sad." 

"Media vultures," Lynda frowned from behind the protection of her father and friend. "They've been hounding me ever since I got to my car this morning. They followed me when I dropped Regan and Dief at the Consulate, then they followed me here. They all want to interview me." They reporters and camera crews spotted the young Civilian Aid and rushed over. "Oh dear. Guys, please do something." 

Stanley and Ray stood tall, but the reporters bowled them over like toothpicks, knocking them to the floor. They cornered Lynda, thrusting cameras and microphones into her face and grilled her. 

"Miss Kowalski, what's it like . . ." 

"How do you feel . . ." 

"Are you . . ." 

"Okay, that's enough!" Everyone turned to see Welsh come out of his office, half a deli sandwich in his hand. His nostrils were flaring. He looked down at the two Detectives. "You two okay?" 

"Yeah," Stanley answered as he and Ray got up, straightening their clothes. 

Welsh stepped in front of Lynda, shielding her from the media. He stared angrily at them. "Listen up! Anyone who further harasses Miss Kowalski will be thrown in jail, got it? Now, get out of my building so my Detectives can do their job without being bothered." The reporters and camera crews reluctantly left. Welsh sighed before glancing around at the sea of faces staring at him. "Okay, everyone back to work." He went back into his office as the other Detective resumed working. 

"Sorry about that," Lynda apologized to Stanley and Ray. 

"It's okay, Lynda," Stanley said. 

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. At five o'clock, Lynda shut down her computer, then grabbed her stuff, preparing to leave. 

"Hey, look, you want to go get a bite to eat?" Stanley asked as he walked up to her desk. "You know, celebrate a little early?" 

"Sorry, Dad, but I promised Alana and Annie that I'd go out with them tonight. How about tomorrow after Graduation? The exam won't be for three hours after, so we can get something then." 

"Okay," Stanley smiled. "Have a good time." 

"Trust me, we will." Lynda smiled. "We will." She left her desk and walked out of the Squad Room for the last time as a Civilian Aid. Every single person watched her, smiling proudly.   
  


\+ + + +

Lynda smiled at her reflection, remembering the fun time she had that night. Then her smile slowly faded. She knew that after today, she would hardly see Annie and Alana, since they were going to be assigned different districts once they graduated. Lynda felt sad, but then took a deep breath and cheered up, knowing this was not a day to be sad. She straightened her uniform one last time before heading out of her bedroom to the living room. 

Besides her father being there, Ray and Fraser had joined. They were waiting with Dief and Regan when Lynda walked in. "Well, what do you think?" She stood tall. 

The three men stood up, smiling. Lynda looked really grown up, different than she had the day before. It was as if she had grown up overnight. 

"You look great," Stanley smiled. "Ready?" 

"Yeah," Lynda nodded. "Let's go." 

Together with her best friends, she walked out of her apartment.   
  


* * * *

"Now, would the graduates please rise to receive your diplomas," Superintendent Read spoke into the microphone on his podium. 

Lynda entire class stood up as the roll was called off. Lynda stood tall, smiling, knowing that behind her, her friends were watching her proudly. Everyone she knew - her father, Ray, Fraser, Dief and Regan, Huey and Dewey, Welsh, Francesca and the other Vecchios, and Inspector Thatcher and Turnbull - had come to show support for her on this important day. 

". . . Officer Lynda Kowalski." When her name was called, Lynda walked up proudly to Read as she listened to the applause and cheers, not only from her little group, but from everyone there. She smiled and shook his hand, then took the offered diploma. "As I'm sure all of you are aware, Officer Kowalski will be making history today as she becomes the youngest person ever in the history of Chicago to take the Detective's Examination. Good luck, Officer." 

"Thank you, Sir." Lynda grinned before walking back to her seat. 

After the ceremony was officially over, everyone came up to Lynda and started congratulating her. Stanley took over in his father role and began snapping off pictures. After the hoopla was over, Lynda walked over to Alana and Annie to say goodbye. 

"So, which districts did you get assigned to?" Lynda asked as they walked back to her group of friends. 

"We both got assigned to the 16th Districts," Annie answered. 

"Hey, Lynda, I want you to meet someone," Stanley said as came back to the group with a young woman. She was dressed in a black shirt, slacks, and boots. She had brown hair and eyes. "Elaine, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Lynda Kowalski. Lynda, this is Elaine Besbriss. She was the Civilian Aid before you and Frannie." 

Lynda smiled at the young brunette. "So, you're Elaine. I've heard so much about you." 

"And I've heard a lot about you," Elaine smiled back. She looked at Stanley, then back at Lynda. "It was kind of strange to hear that Ray - oh, Stanley - had a child." She smiled at Fraser. "Hi, Fraser. It's been awhile." 

"Yes, it has," Fraser smiled warmly. "How are things with you?" 

"Oh, never better." Elaine noticed Ray. "You're back in one piece, Ray." 

"I notice a hint of being surprised," Ray teased. 

"Just relieved," Elaine smiled. "When I ran into Stanley, I wasn't even aware that you had returned until he told me." 

"Then how did you know about Lynda?" Ray asked. 

"Lucky guess?" Elaine suggested. "I mean, there aren't that many people in the Chicago area who have the last name Kowalski and are police officers. I was just curious, and that's when I noticed you guys in the audience during the roll call." 

"Regardless, it's still good to see you, Elaine," Welsh smiled. 

"Thank you, Sir," Elaine smiled. She looked at her wristwatch. "Well, I have to get going." She turned to Annie and Alana. "I expect to see both of you at the Station at oh eight hundred hours." She quickly left. 

"You know her?" Lynda asked her classmates. 

"Of course," Annie smiled. "She is going to be our supervisor after all." 

Stanley cleared his throat. "Well, I hate to break this up, but we have other plans, remember, Lynda?" 

"I remember, Dad." Lynda gave her friends one last hug. "You take care of yourselves, you hear me?" 

"And you take care of yourself, okay?" Alana asked, hugging her friend tightly. "Good luck." 

"Thanks." Annie and Alana waved one last time before leaving the group. Lynda turned to her friends. The entire stared at her. "What?" 

"They'll be fine," Fraser said. 

"I know," Lynda answered. "They're going to be great. I just . . . it's going to take some getting used to not seeing them as much anymore." 

"You still up for some lunch?" Stanley asked. "My treat?" 

"Sure," Lynda smiled. "My stomach is full of butterflies right now." 

"Well, you four go on and get out of here," Welsh said. Regan and Dief barked loudly, reminding the Lieutenant that they were there as well. "And take the wolves with you. Lynda, good luck. I really wish we could be there for you, but there won't be much we can do. And I do have my job to attend to." 

"I understand, Sir," Lynda nodded. She hooked her arm in her father's and Ray's. "Well, let's go. I'm hungry." Together, Stanley, Ray, Fraser, Lynda, Regan, and Dief walked away from the others.   
  


* * * *

The six friends went to a nearby cafe to celebrate Lynda's graduation. After seating themselves in a booth, they ordered their meals, then began talking. 

"Well, just a few more hours," Ray said. "You nervous?" 

"A little," Lynda admitted, sipping her soda. "You know, I was just thinking. I have the jurisdiction to shoot a gun, but I'm still not old enough to drink . . . not that I'd want to anyway. Alcohol tastes funny." 

"Since when did you taste alcoholic drinks?" Stanley asked angrily. 

"Relax, Dad," Lynda said gently. "Mom let me have a sip of her champagne at a wedding one time when I was fifteen. Stuff tasted so horrible I nearly spit it across the room. So, you don't have to worry about me drinking too much." 

"We're glad to hear that," Fraser replied. "Alcohol can ruin a person's health and life." 

"Well, I'd like to make a toast," Stanley said, taking his drink and lifting it up. "To my daughter, Officer Lynda Kowalski. You've done so much ever since you came into our lives, Lynda. This city is lucky enough to have you as one of its cops, and soon, one of its Detectives. 

But, even if you don't make it, I can speak for Ray and Fraser as well as myself when I say we're very proud of you." 

"Hear, hear," Ray and Fraser replied as the four clinked their glasses together. Their food soon arrived after that, and they began eating.   
  


* * * *

An hour later, the six were leaving the restaurants when they heard gunshots nearby. They all bolted toward the sound. They turned around a corner and saw about five masked people coming out of a bank. The officers and wolves quickly ducked back behind the corner of the 

building and assessed the situation. Ray and Stanley - who had put on his glasses while running with the others - pulled out their guns. 

"So, now what?" Lynda asked, pulling her gun from her holster. "What are we going to do?" 

"'We' are not doing anything," Stanley said. "You're staying here; let the real police handle this." He looked at Lynda's gun in her hand. "And put that gun away. You could really hurt someone, you know." 

"And what am I?" Lynda asked. "Look, -" 

"Lynda, quiet," Ray interrupted. He turned to Fraser. "What do you think, Benny? Full frontal assault?" 

"Works for me," Stanley replied. 

Without warning, the two Detectives charged from their hiding spot. The surrounded the five robbers, gun aimed. "Chicago Police! Drop your weapons!" The five robbers looked startled for a moment, then quickly dropped their guns and money bags, and put their hands in the air. 

"We're going to need backup," Lynda said. She turned to Dief and Regan. "Go back to Division. Get some help, okay?" She was careful to enunciate her words. The two wolves ran off in the opposite direction, obeying her command. 

"Good thinking," Fraser nodded. 

As they both turned back to watch the scene, they saw two guys sneak up behind Ray and Stanley. Both had guns, and both pointed them at their heads. "Lose 'em." Stanley and Ray dropped their guns quickly. 

"Now what?" Lynda asked. 

"Now, you drop your gun," another voice answered. It was followed by a familiar clicking sound. The two knew exactly what it was. Lynda dropped her gun. "Now, move." Fraser and Lynda obeyed, walking out into the middle of the street, joining Ray and Stanley. "Hey, Harry, look what we got here!" 

The one called Harry stepped out of a nearby van and sauntered up to the four officers. He was in his mid to late thirties, black hair and brown eyes, dressed in a business suit. He looked them over. "Take them with us." 

"What?!" The guy pointing his gun at Lynda and Fraser look horrified. "But boss . . . why? I though we said no hostages." 

"Because, my incessant little twit," Harry growled, "how much money do you think three Chicago officers are worth?" He eyed Fraser, noticing his red uniform and Stetson. "And how much do you think the Canadian government would pay for the safe return of one of their own?" 

He looked Lynda up and down, then cupped her chin in his hands. "And if we don't get any money, then we can always use this pretty little thing for . . . other purposes." 

Lynda responded by spitting in his face. "Go to hell." 

Harry slapped her in the face, then grabbed her in a choke hold. He pulled a knife on her and held it to her throat. "I'd watch it, girlie. Wouldn't want to have to slit that pretty neck of yours." 

Stanley, nostrils flaring, charged him like and angry bull, but was grabbed by two of the men. Harry chuckled. "Throw them in the van." 

That was the last thing the four heard before their worlds went black.   
  


* * * *

"Does anyone with a brain work around here or did Chicago just hire a bunch of morons for police officers?" Welsh asked angrily, staring at the confusion before him, particularly at Dewey and Huey were busy trying to sort through some files on a case they started. It looked to 

Welsh like the Duck Boys couldn't even read, because the files they were reading were upside down. Francesca was having her hands full with the cappuccino machine being on the fritz. Welsh sighed and went back into his office. 

Suddenly, a furry streak of white burst into the Squad Room, barking loudly. Welsh came back outside as Dief ran up to him, nearly toppling the Lieutenant over. Everyone looked warily at the wolf - like he had lost his mind - as the wolf continued to bark. 

"What's his problem?" Francesca asked wryly. "Out of junk food?" 

"How should I know?" Welsh asked. Dief jumped onto him. "What? I got nothing on me. I haven't eaten lunch yet." 

Dief jumped down, then ran to the double doors. He looked back at Welsh and continued to bark. 

"You know what?" Dewey said as he came over to Welsh. "He kind of reminds me of Lassie, whenever she went to get help. She would always bark and look at you, telling you to follow her." 

A light bulb suddenly clicked in his mind, just realizing that certain people who were with the wolf were not with the wolf. "Oh, God." He looked at Dief. "Is Constable Fraser in trouble?" Welsh enunciated his words. 

"Woof!" 

"And Vecchio?" 

"Woof!" 

"Stanley and Lynda?" 

"Woof! Woof!" 

"Okay," Welsh went back into his office and retrieved his jacket and gun. "We have four officers missing! Huey, Dewey, drop what you're doing and come with me!" The two Detectives happily abandoned their file folders and took off with Welsh as he ran off with Dief.   
  


* * * *

Fraser was the first to regain consciousness. He opened his eyes and realized he was in a 

small room, approximately ten feet by ten feet. The walls and floor were entirely made of concrete, and a single door was on one side. 

Fraser tried to sit up from his position on the floor, but discovered his hands and feet were 

both bound. He gave a good tug, trying to loosen the ropes, but it was to no avail. Whoever the kidnappers were, they were very good at tying knots. 

"So, what are you going to do now?" 

Without looking toward the source of the voice, Fraser knew it was his father. "What do 

you want, Dad?" 

"How about some help?" Robert Fraser suggested. 

"From you?" Fraser almost laughed. "You're dead. What can you do?" 

"That's gratitude for you. All I come to offer is my help, and you bite my head off." The 

ghost shook his head. "I thought I raised you better than that." 

"You didn't raise me. You left me with your parents. They raised me." 

"I did visit you, though." He looked around the small room. "So, any thought about how 

to get out of this room?" 

"First, I'd like to get out of these binds." He struggled. "But I can't seem to get them 

loose." 

"How about your knife?" 

"Good point, Dad, but how can I reach it?" 

Robert nodded to Fraser's friends, who were still unconscious, lying in a crumpled heap 

off to one side. "Get one of the Yanks to help you . . . provided that they wake up first." He knelt beside Lynda. "Son, do you worry about the young Yank?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"She's going to be doing this kind of stuff with you all the time, that is if she passes that 

test." 

"She can handle herself, Dad," Fraser replied. 

"Of course she can handle herself," Robert stood up. "You taught her everything there is 

about how to be a good officer of the law. She's tough and sturdy, for a woman. But that wasn't what I was asking you, Son." 

"Of course I'll worry about her," Fraser retorted. "I consider her one of my closest 

friends. I worry about her just like I worry about Ray or Stanley . . . maybe even more." 

Robert smiled. "She is a good person. I'm glad she came into your life, Son. I've never 

seen you so alive. And giving her that wolf for Christmas was really thoughtful." 

"Thank you, Dad," Fraser sounded a bit surprised. 

"But why in Heaven's name did you allow her to keep that wolf licence? It wasn't even 

real. You should have arrested her, and the Yank for forging it." 

"I thought it was really nice of Ray to get Regan's licence, considering how he feels about 

there being two wolves to deal with." 

"I would have arrested both of them." 

Fraser looked up at his father in disbelief. "Do you ever listen to yourself? They're my 

friends." 

"Oh, friends, Son, can turn on you quicker than spoiled milk in your stomach. Look what 

happened with Gerrard." 

Fraser closed his eyes and sighed. Besides Turnbull, his father was the only person who 

could annoy him to this extent. "Dad, please -" He was interrupted by Lynda stirring. He focused his attention on her as his father disappeared. "Lynda?" 

"Mmm." Lynda slowly moved her head. 

"Lynda . . . Lynda, Lynda, Lynda, Lynda." 

"What?" Lynda asked groggily as she opened her eyes. She looked around and tried to sit 

up, but her hand and feet were tied as well. 

"Good, you're awake," Fraser smiled. "How are you?" 

"My head hurts, but the room's not spinning, so I don't think I have a concussion to 

worry about. But I could really use about a hundred aspirin right about now. And you?" 

"My head hurts as well, but that's not important. What is important is trying to get out of 

here. Think you can move over here?" 

"Why?" 

"I need you to be able to get my knife from my left boot." 

"You carry a knife?" 

"Yes. I don't have a permit to carry a gun, but I have always carried a knife in my boot. 

It's below the American standard." 

"Okay," Lynda tried to comprehend that. Slowly, she scooted on her rear end over to the 

Mountie.   
  


* * * *

Welsh, Huey, and Dewy knew they looked ridiculous, driving in a car chasing a wolf as he 

ran down the street, but they didn't care. There were four officers in trouble, all very good friends. That was all that mattered. 

Welsh turned his car around a corner and slammed on his brakes, barely missing a grey 

Lincoln. The three got out and were approached by two men in business suits. They flashed FBI badges to the three. 

"FBI," the first one said. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave these premises. 

We're investigating a bank robbery." 

"Chicago Police," Welsh retorted, showing the agents his badge. "Lieutenant Harding 

Welsh, District 27." 

"We were wondering when you were going to show up, Lieutenant." 

Welsh looked to see two other Agents approach: Agents Ford and Derek Laramie. "What 

do you mean 'when'?" Welsh asked. "How did you know we were coming?" 

"After we started interviewing witnesses," Ford explained, "some of them told us they 

saw the robbers kidnap what appeared to be two un-uniformed officers, one uniformed officer, and one guy in red wearing a big hat. Naturally, we assumed that it was Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski and Constable Fraser, so we just knew that sooner or later you would be showing up." 

"Any leads?" Welsh asked. 

"None," Derek spoke up as Dief sniffed his shoes. He smiled down at the wolf. "Hi, 

Diefenbaker." He petted the wolf on his furry head. "Do you have any guess on who the uniformed officer could be, Lieutenant?" 

"Oh, I know who it is," Welsh answered. "It was Lynda. She just graduated from the 

Police Academy earlier today, then left to celebrate with the others." 

Derek's eyes widened. "You mean, Lynda's out there? As a cop?" 

Welsh nodded. He knew about Lynda's personal involvement with the agent, and while 

he wanted to strangle him for what he did to her, he knew now was not the time. "I can trust that since it is my officers that have been kidnaped, then I can be in charge of this investigation?" 

"No way, Welsh," Ford interceded. "This is FBI territory. Our investigation." 

"Really?" Welsh raised his eyebrows. "You know, I still have that tape with Adolph 

Kuzma that Internal Affairs may be interested in." He knew the tape would never be admitted in any court as evidence, but he still taunted them with it. 

Ford narrowed his eyes. "Fine. It's all yours, Welsh." 

"In the words of a certain Mountie," Welsh smiled, "'Thank you kindly'." He walked off 

to the scene with Huey and Dewy in tow. Dief trotted after them. 

"What tape?" Derek asked. 

"Forget it, Laramie," Ford replied curtly before walking away. 

Welsh surveyed the crime scene. He looked down at Dief, who was sniffing the ground. 

"Anything?" Dief whined, then looked up. Welsh sighed. "I thought you could track muskox across the Atlantic. I guess it doesn't help that the other wolf isn't here." Welsh did a double take. He still wasn't used to the fact that Regan was now part of the team, so he had just noticed that the second wolf was missing. "Where is he, anyway?" 

As if on cue a grey and white ball of fur came running up to the officers, barking his head 

off. He ran up to Welsh, then jumped up and put his paws on his chest. "Oh, get down!" Welsh cried. "Off of me!" Regan obeyed, then started running around in circles, barking. He was drawing the attention of every person at the scene. 

Derek came up to the group and eyed Regan. "Lieutenant, who is that?" 

"Regan," Welsh answered. "Lynda's wolf." 

"When did Lynda get a wolf?" 

"Fraser gave him to her for Christmas." 

"Oh." Apparently, a lot had happened since Lynda had broken up with him. "What's his 

problem?" 

"I don't know." Regan looked at Dief before they both bolted in the direction Regan had 

just come from. They disappeared around a corner. "Wait a second. Maybe Regan followed the kidnappers and then came back here to show us where they are. Huey, Dewey, after those wolves!" He ran back to his car with Huey and Dewey. 

"I'm coming, too!" Derek shouted, running after them. 

"Fine," Welsh said. The four jumped in the car and sped away.   
  


* * * *

"Okay, just a little bit more," Fraser said softly. He sawed his binds back and forth against 

the blade that Lynda removed from his boot quite easily. Finally, the ropes broke apart. "Ah." Fraser rubbed his wrists, getting the circulation flowing through his hands again. Here took the knife from Lynda, then quickly cut her binds. 

"Thanks, Fraser," Lynda said, rubbing her wrists while Fraser untied his ankles. She 

looked over at her father and Ray, who finally started coming around. They opened their eyes and looked around. "Welcome back, guys." 

"Huh?" Stanley asked as he looked around. "Where are we? Lynda, you okay?" 

"I'm fine, Dad." Lynda untied the ropes around her ankles, then quickly went over and 

untied her father, while Fraser untied Ray. "I don't know where we are, actually." She helped her father to her feet. "You okay? Is the room spinning around. You feel nauseous?" 

"No," Stanley said, rubbing the bump on his head. "But I will need some painkillers." 

"We all will," Lynda smiled. "Ray, you okay?" 

"Yeah," Ray nodded. "I've had worse done to me. Now, is there any way we can get out 

of here?" 

Together, the four walked over to the door. Fraser gently tried the knob. It turned 

completely. Carefully, he opened the door and stuck his head out. The door opened up into a hallway, which was deserted. The foursome slowly walked together into the hallway, ready to attack anything if necessary. 

Fraser clutched his knife. Ray and Stanley both clutched their backup guns that they 

grabbed from their ankle holsters - which the kidnappers fortunately overlooked. Lynda, having no weapons of her own since they were taken from her while she was unconscious, clenched her fists. 

Fraser's acute hearing picked up some noises coming from his left. He approached a door 

that had a sliver of light coming from underneath it, then put his ear to it. Lynda did the same. 

"What's up?" Ray whispered. 

"Seven men," Fraser explained. "They're sitting, talking about . . . us." 

"Nine," Lynda corrected him. "Two are standing, the rest sitting at a table." She sniffed 

the air. "Smoking cigarettes - Camels, I think - and drinking . . . Captain Morgan." She looked up at Fraser. "Is that correct?" 

Fraser sniffed the air. "Actually, I think they're drinking 'Absoult Canadiana'. It has that 

distinct odor. Other than that, very good, Lynda." 

"Okay, so we know they're sitting down drinking and smoking," Stanley said. "Any guns 

on any of them?" 

"I don't know," Fraser replied. 

"Yeah, how would we know that, Dad?" 

"So, what do we do?" Ray asked. "Charge them like last time?" 

"No way," Lynda said. "Remember what happened last time? They kinda took us 

hostage." 

"And I suppose you have a better idea?" Ray asked. 

"Actually, yes," Lynda answered. She walked over to a metal ladder next to Ray. 

"Follow me." She quietly climbed up the ladder. Ray turned to Fraser, who merely shrugged and followed her. Ray sighed, then followed him, along with Stanley. 

When they got to the top, they walked across a catwalk that led them directly above the 

room. The four could clearly see the kidnappers twenty feet below them. The light shown above, but since they were all dressed in dark colors - except for Fraser in his bright red serge - the only way the kidnappers would see them if they looked directly up. 

Lynda and Fraser had been right; all nine of them were smoking and drinking. Over to 

one side were a pile of guns and the stolen money. Harry had Lynda's officer hat and was twirling it in his hands. Another, who was clearly drunk, had Fraser's Stetson on his head, saying loudly he was Dudley Do-Right. 

"I think he's mocking me," Fraser said. 

Lynda narrowed her eyes at Harry. "I want my hat back." 

"Now, Lynda, be patient," Fraser said. "We need to formulate a plan." 

"Plan, shman," Lynda said. "I'm getting pretty ticked off right now." 

Fraser sighed and lowered his head. No matter how much he trained Lynda, she would 

always have her father's attitude for being impatient. 

"I'm with Lynda on this one," Ray said. "We need to take them by surprise, Benny." 

"Okay, but only when I give the signal," Fraser said. 

"Wait, are you expecting me to jump from this catwalk onto them?" Stanley asked. Fraser 

nodded. "No way, Fraser." 

"So, what's the signal, Frase?" Lynda asked. 

One of the kidnappers took a long swig from a vodka bottle. He happened to be looking 

up at the time, and spotted Fraser. He dropped his bottle. "Hey, they're loose!" he pointed. 

"That's the signal," Fraser said before jumping off the catwalk. He landed right on the 

table, effectively breaking it. He managed to knock two guys out in the process. 

"Look out below!" Lynda shouted before she jumped off. Her fall was broken by three of 

the kidnappers, who she knocked out when she landed right on top of them. Ray followed suit, then Stanley - reluctantly. 

Lynda got up and faced Harry. "I want my hat back," she growled as she edged toward 

him. 

"Come and get it," Harry sneered. Lynda assumed a fighting stance, just as Harry charged 

her. 

Fraser went after the drunk who was wearing his Stetson. The drunk charged him, but 

Fraser quickly incapacitated him, took his hat, and put it back on his head. "Thank you kindly," he nodded to the unconscious man. 

Stanley and Ray were able to quickly take care of the other four men. Soon, all nine 

kidnappers were lying in a crumpled heap, including Harry, who Lynda knocked out with a jumping from kick to the chin. She calmly took her hat and firmly placed it on her head. 

As the four gathered up the money and guns, the room's door burst open and Welsh, 

Huey, Dewey, Derek, Regan and Dief all rushed in, scaring the four. The humans had their guns drawn, but soon lowered them when they saw everything was taken care of. 

Regan and Dief ran over to their owners, overjoyed that they were safe. Lynda knelt 

beside Regan as he covered her with licks. "You are a good tracker, aren't you? How did you manage to find us so quickly?" 

"Diefenbaker came to us, telling us you were in danger," Welsh explained. "Huey, 

Dewey, and I followed him back to the bank where you four were abducted. Then Regan showed up and led us here." 

"Regan, I told you to go with Dief," Lynda replied sternly. Regan whined softly, then 

woofed twice. Lynda smiled. "Oh, well . . . thank you. That was a very noble gesture, Regan." 

"What?" Stanley asked. 

"Regan did go with Dief to get help," Lynda explained. "But when he saw us get taken 

away in that van, he ran after the van, following it here. Then, he went back to get the others, meeting them at the bank." She gave Regan a big scratch behind the ears. "You are such a good boy." She did the same thing with Dief. "You, too, Dief." 

"That's pretty impressive for only having him less than a month," Derek spoke up. Lynda 

noticed Derek for the first time. Her smile faded, as Derek nodded to her. "Lynda." 

"Derek," Lynda returned the nod. 

"I, uh, heard you just graduated from the Police Academy," Derek said slowly. 

"Congratulations." 

"Thanks," Lynda smiled slightly. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she looked at her 

wristwatch. "Oh, no!" 

"What?" Everyone looked at her, alarmed. 

"I was supposed to be at the Academy to take the Detective's Examination over an hour 

ago!" Lynda exclaimed. "Oh, man!" She ran out of the building, with Regan and Dief close behind her. Stanley, Ray, and Fraser followed, leaving Welsh, Huey and Dewey, and Derek to take care of the kidnappers.   
  


* * * *

"What do you mean?!" Lynda shouted. 

"I'm sorry, Officer Kowalski," Mayor Harold said calmly. "You knew the rules." 

"She was kidnaped!" Stanley said angrily. "It's not like she planned it." 

"I'm sorry, but the rules are rules," Mayor Harold replied. "There was only one time 

allotted for her to take the examination, and because Officer Kowalski didn't show up at that specific time, the program - unfortunately - has to be terminated. Officer Kowalski will be re-assigned to the 13th District as of day after tomorrow." 

Lynda couldn't believe it. It was as if someone had plunged a knife into her. Before 

anyone could see the tears fall from her eyes, she ran out of the Mayor's office and down the hall. She finally came to a stop and sat in a chair pushed up against the wall. She took her hat off and threw it down the hall, then buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. 

She didn't notice her friends until they sat next to her. Stanley put an arm around her, 

letting her head rest on his shoulder. "It isn't fair," she said between sobs. Fraser handed her a tissue. She dabbed her eyes. "I mean, all that hard work with convicting Xavier . . . all that extra training . . . useless." 

"'Useless'?" Ray asked. "What do you mean 'useless'?" 

Lynda sat up and looked at her friends, who sat with her. Dief and Regan had both of their heads on her lap. "I mean, what's the point of going through all that extra training and fighting, plus all that investigating into Chris' life when it was all for nothing?" 

"Now, wait just one second there," Stanley said. "It wasn't just for nothing. Lynda, knowing everything you learned makes you a better cop. You know what except of people and situations, better than most any person on the force, Detective or otherwise." 

Lynda blew her nose with her tissue. "I know . . . I just . . . I was so looking forward to taking that test, and then the possibility of working with you guys. Now . . . I've lost that chance, and I won't be seeing any of you anymore." She lay her head back on Stanley's shoulder. 

Stanley put his arm around her tightly. "Don't worry, Lynda. We're not going to let that happen." 

"Yeah," Ray nodded. "We'll think of something."   
  


* * * *

The next day, Lynda shuffled into her living room at nine o'clock. She had been given the day off to recover from her abduction. She would be reporting to the 13th District the next day. Regan and Dief wanted to spend the day with her, so they both lounged under the coffee table. Lynda was amazed that Dief had taken kindly to Regan's appearance in their lives, even to the point of letting the newcomer share his 'cave'. The only bad thing was that Regan was picking up Dief's bad habits with junk food. 

Yawning, Lynda sat on the couch, grabbed the remote, and turned her TV on. She flipped through the channels until she came to the local news channel. She was surprised to find the news was on. Some kind of breaking story. Lynda turned up the volume. 

" . . . and no comment yet from the Mayor'," the anchorwoman finished. "Again, for those of you just joining us, almost one-hundred percent of the total police force of the Chicago Police have called in sick today in what appears to be a 'blue flu'. As a result, crime in the city is on the rise. 

"The first District to be hit with the 'blue flu' was the 27th District," the anchorwoman explained. Lynda bolted upright. "Following closely behind was 16th District, then like the domino effect, the other districts quickly succumbed. We will provide continuing coverage in what historians are calling the largest 'blue flu' ever in the history of Chicago. This is Rachel Conners, with Channel 8 News." 

Lynda turned off her TV, then looked down at the wolves. "What do you two think? Think we should find out what's going on?" Both wolves barked and wagged their tails. "My thoughts exactly." Lynda jumped from the couch and raced back to her room to get dressed.   
  


* * * *

"I'm sorry, Mayor," Welsh said in his office, on his phone. "I can't help it when my Detectives get sick. They spend so much time on the streets, that at least one of them picks up some bug. Then, he or she brings it back and everyone is exposed . . . in fact, I'm starting to feel a little under the weather myself." He faked a cough. "I need to go take some medicine. Good day." He hung up his phone, just as Stanley and Ray came in. "That was the Mayor." 

"Lemme guess," Ray said. "He's wondering why we're all sick." 

"Yeah," Welsh explained. "But I calmly explained that viruses are contagious." He turned to Stanley. "Good thinking, Detective, but one question. How did you manage something like this so quickly?" 

"Well, it was really simple," Stanley said. "It helps to know at least one person in every District. Then - " 

"Would someone like to tell me what's going on here?" 

Everyone looked to see Lynda standing in Welsh's doorway, her arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "What are you doing here?" Welsh asked. "You're supposed to be resting." 

"I was, Sir, until I heard that there was a 'blue flu' going on and it started here." She walked into the office. "So, what is it, since obviously none of you are sick?" 

"Actually, we are sick," Stanley said. "We're sick of you not being able to take your test, Lynda." 

"So, we decided to voice our disdain," Ray replied. 

"But how did you manage something so quickly?" Lynda asked. 

"Some phone calls," Stanley explained. "I talked with a few people from each District, telling them that you weren't allowed to take the Detective's Examination, despite that you were kidnapped. They told a few people, who told a few more people, who told more people. Within three hours, every officer was calling in sick on way or another." 

"And the Mayor has no clue as to why this 'blue flu' is going on," Welsh added. 

"But . . . why?" Lynda looked confused. 

"Lynda, you deserve to take that test," Welsh said. "Now whether you pass it or not is up to you, but you should have the opportunity to at least try. And every officer in Chicago agrees." 

Lynda smiled. "Thanks, guys. I don't think I've ever had a city back me up the way Chicago is right now." She knitted her eyebrows. "Then again, I don't think a city's ever back me up ever." She grinned devilishly. "Let the Mayor stew in his own worry for a few more hours. He deserves it."   
  


* * * *

Mayor William P. Harold did indeed stew in his own worry - for three more hours, trying to figure out what the CPD wanted - when he received a phone call. "Yes?" 

"This is Lieutenant Welsh, Mayor. We want you to know about our demand." 

"What demand? Harold asked. "The Chicago Police just recently got a pay raise." 

"We don't want money. We - that is, all of the CPD - want Lynda Kowalski to take the Detective's Examination." 

"I already stated that she cannot take the examination." 

"Then, we can't work." 

"Be reasonable, Lieutenant. I can't do that." 

"I'm hanging up." 

"No! Wait." Harold sighed. "I'll see what I can do." 

"Thank you," Welsh replied cheerfully. "Have a nice day." He hung up. 

Harold quickly dialed a number, the number for the Superintendent of Police, Mark Read. "Mark? It's Bill. Look, I don't care what it takes, but I want Lynda Kowalski to take the Detective's examination ASAP."   
  


* * * *

It had been a week since Lynda took the examination. The police had gotten the city back under control and crime was once again at a low. While waiting for the results, Lynda had worked her beat at the 13th District. Finally, the moment of truth came. Lynda received word that her test results had come in, and she was to report to the 27th District for further notice. 

Lynda walked into the Squad Room, dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, a black blazer, and running shoes. She walked over to her father's desk, where Ray and Fraser were with him, talking about hockey. Dief and Regan were watching the humans talk, and trying to steal two doughnuts off Stanley's desk without being noticed. 

"No, it's the Blackhawks, all the way, Fraser." 

"I have to agree, Benny." 

"I'm still going for the Maple Leafs," Fraser answered. 

"Hi, guys," Lynda smiled. 

"Hey, Lynda," Stanley smiled. "It's about time you got here. Welsh is getting impatient." 

"Any news?" Lynda asked. 

"No, he won't say a word," Ray answered. "So, how you like working the beat?" 

"It's okay," Lynda replied. "I mean, it's not -" 

"Lynda, my office," Welsh interrupted, sticking his head out his office door. 

"Wish me luck," Lynda said before leaving her group. 

"You don't need it," Ray smiled. 

Lynda walked into Welsh's office and shut the door behind her. She took a deep breath before sitting in a chair across from Welsh's desk. She placed her hands in her lap and sat straight. 

Welsh grabbed a folder off his desk and opened it. "Now, Lynda, before I say anything about how you did on the test, I want to say that it was only a test." 

Lynda looked hurt. "I didn't pass it, did I?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"Then I did pass it?" 

"I didn't say that either, Lynda." Welsh reached into his shirt pocket for his glasses, but they weren't there. He looked all over his desk, but they seemed to be missing. "Uh, Lynda, I can't read this file without my glasses. I think I left them out on the filing cabinet next to my door. Could you check there?" 

Sure," Lynda answered. She got out of her seat, walked over to the office door, and opened it. 

"CONGRATULATIONS!" 

Lynda nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked around the office. A big, white banner painted in huge purple letters was being held up by Dewey and Huey. It read 'Congratulations!'. Bunches of balloons were strung up on every single officers' desk. Everyone was grinning and 

throwing confetti at her. 

"Oh . . . does this mean . . . I passed?" Lynda asked, trying to regain her composure. 

"No, we just did this for our health," Stanley answered sarcastically. He smiled. "Of course you passed, Lynda." Lynda smiled, tears of happiness in her eyes. 

"Okay, no waterworks," Ray said. "Partner." 

"How long have you've known?" Lynda asked. 

"Since yesterday," Welsh answered, walking out of his office. "As soon as your test results came in, the Mayor came over personally and told us. So, we decided to throw this little party for you." He handed her a canvas bag. "And consider this your present." 

Lynda reached into the bag and pulled out a small, leather wallet. She opened it up to see her new badge and ID. "I can't believe this is really happening. It's like a dream." She read the ID. "Lynda Anna Kowalski, Detective First Grade, Chicago Police, 27th District." She smiled as she put the badge on the inside of her jacket, positioning it so that the badge would be easily available if necessary. 

The next thing Lynda pulled out of the bag was her weapon. She held it delicately in her hands. "9mm, semi-automatic Barretta, standard nine round." 

"Whoa, that could cause some damage," Stanley said. "Think you can handle it, Lynda?" 

"I'd been training with it during my firearms classes," Lynda answered. "They wanted me to train with the gun I'd chosen just in case I did pass the test. So, yeah, I can handle it." She reached into the bag and pulled out a shoulder holster, similar to the one that her father wore. She put her gun into the holster, took her jacket off, then put the holster over her shoulders. After securing it, she put her jacket back on, then twirled around. "Well, any bulges?" 

"It's perfectly hidden," Fraser said. 

"Now, you did get a back up gun, right?" Ray asked. 

"Of course," Lynda said. She rummaged around in the bag and pulled out an ankle holster with a smaller pistol already in it. "I'm prepared." She put the holster back in the bag, then dug around some more. "Handcuffs . . . extra clips . . . wow, they really wanted me to be prepared for anything, huh, Sir?" 

"They just want you to be ready," Welsh said. 

"And speaking of ready," Francesca said, walking up to the group, her four-inch heels clapping against the floor, "this cake is ready to be eaten . . . by the wolves if we don't get to it first." She held up a large white cake with red frosting spelling out 'Congratulations, Detective!'. Dief and Regan were trying to jump up and lick the frosting. "Down, both of you! Or no cake." The wolves obediently stopped jumping and sat, never taking their eyes off the cake. 

"Well, Frannie, how do you feel about losing a partner?" Lynda asked. 

"I'm cool with it," Francesca smiled. "I'm really happy for you, Lynda." 

"Okay, okay," Welsh said. "If you're going to have cake, cut it up. Don't just hold it." Francesca nodded, then went to the lounge to cut the cake, as everyone slowly started back to their work. The wolves followed. "Oh, Kowalski?" 

"Yeah?" Lynda and Stanley looked up. 

"No, I mean - " Welsh scratched his head. "Oh, this is going to be confusing." 

"Can I make a suggestion, Sir?" Lynda asked. "Call out Dad's name really loudly." 

"Stanley!" Welsh's voice boomed through the Squad Room. 

"Stella!" Huey and Dewey shouted back. 

"Now my name, Sir." 

"Lynda!" Nothing. Welsh raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I see what you're getting at. Good idea, Detective." Welsh went back into his office. 

"Thank you, Sir," Lynda beamed. She turned around. "Let's party, shall we?"   
  


* * * *

Two hours passed since the party started. Lynda was allowed to go home for the remainder of the day to rest, so she took Regan home with her. They drove north on Lake Shore Boulevard. Lynda smiled as she petted Regan, who was sticking his head out the passenger's window. 

"All units respond to silent alarm at 265 Main," the dispatcher's voice crackled over Lynda's CB. Three suspects, no weapons." 

Lynda picked up her CB. "Dispatch, this is Unit 1-2-1. I am at the corner of Lake Shore and _____. Will be at the scene in ten minutes. Send for backup. Over." 

"Roger, that, Unit 1-2-1," the dispatcher's voice replied. "Over and out." 

Lynda hit the accelerator and sped toward _______. She turned to Regan, who stuck his head back inside. "Oh, well, I guess we won't get to rest just yet, huh boy?" Regan woofed in response. 

Lynda's '57 Chevy pulled up beside ______, just as the three suspects ran out, carrying bags of money. Two ran in one direction, but one bolted in the opposite direction. "Crap! At least they could all run in one direction," Lynda whispered as she jumped from her car. "Chicago 

Police! Stop, or I'll release the wolf!" The third suspect, upon hearing that, ran faster. Lynda turned to Regan. "Go!" 

While Regan took off after the third suspect, Lynda ran after the other two. She managed to corner them in an alley. "Okay, both of you are under arrest." The two suspects turned around. "Drop the money, turn around, and put your hands over your heads." 

The bigger of the two suspects edged closer to Lynda. "Girlie, you don't stand a chance." He swung a fist at Lynda. 

The young Detective easily dodged it, then delivered at punch of her own, striking the suspect in the face. "You have the right to remain silent." She spun around and kicked him in the chin, knocking him down and out. "If you give up this right, anything you say can, and will, be 

used against you in a court of law." 

The second suspect drew a switchblade, then charged Lynda, swinging it high over his head. Lynda grabbed his wrist and twisted it until he dropped it in pain. "You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the 

courts." She twisted his arm behind his back, then threw him into a nearby brick wall. He fell unconscious to the ground, leaving Lynda standing in a fighting stance. 

"Do you understand the rights as I have explained them to you?" The suspects groaned. "I'll take that as a yes." She turned around and smiled as she heard barking. The third suspect ran into the alley, then stopped short when he saw Lynda. "Hi there. You know, I ran into a 

couple of your friends." The suspect backed away. "Look, I'll give you three choices: one, you can try your luck with me or two, you can try your luck with my wolf, Regan." She pointed to the wolf who stood behind the suspect, growling with his teeth bared. 

"And what's my third choice?" the suspect gulped. 

"You can quietly surrender, put your hands over your head, and give me no trouble," Lynda answered. "Personally, I'd opt for that choice." 

The suspect looked at Lynda, then his friends, then Regan before sighing. He walked over to the brick wall, faced it, placed his hands over his head, and waited to be cuffed. 

Lynda smiled. "Good choice. Now, wait right here. I have to go get my handcuffs." She walked out of the alley. "Regan, hold them until I get back." She returned a few minutes later with three handcuffs from the canvas bag. She finished handcuffing the suspects when Stanley, Ray, and Fraser ran into the alley. Dief trotted in behind them, then went over to greet Regan. 

Lynda smiled as she picked the suspects to their feet. "Oh, hi guys. I got everything under control here." 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Stanley said as he put his gun away. 

"Arresting suspects, Dad." 

"Why didn't you wait for us?" Ray asked angrily. 

"Because they would have gotten away!" Lynda retorted. 

"Now, Ray, Stanley," Fraser said gently, "don't you think -" 

"She was supposed to wait for her partners, Fraser," Stanley said. "She was just showing off." 

"I don't believe this," Lynda said angrily. "I make my first arrest \- *three* arrests, to be exact - and I get my head bitten off." She firmly grabbed the three suspects. "Out of the way. I have to get back down to Division to process these guys. Come on, Regan." Regan grabbed the money bags, then trotted after Lynda. 

"Hey, we're not finished," Stanley said as he marched after her. Ray followed. 

Fraser stood perplexed. He looked down at Dief, who barked. "I think Lynda did a good job, too." The two walked out of the alley.   
  


* * * *

Back at the Squad Room, Lynda furiously typed on her computer, filling out the arrest reports on the three suspects she arrested. Dief and Regan were laying on the floor, munching on some leftover doughnuts that Lynda gave them. The suspects all sat, handcuffed still, next to her 

desk in chairs. Every once in awhile, one would look up at Stanley or Ray, who were both shooting angry glares at Lynda. 

"Excuse me?" the big one who attacked Lynda first looked at Lynda. 

"What?" Lynda looked up from her computer screen. 

"I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help noticing that you're having some problems with your partners." 

Lynda sighed. "It's my first day. I did everything right when I was apprehending you guys. I don't know what their deal is." She stopped short. "Wait, why are you talking to me? I beat the pulp out of you." 

"I'm Tim," the big guy smiled. "I just happened to notice." 

"He majored in sociology in college," the second one spoke up. 

"Wow, that's a pretty big field," Lynda smiled. "I'm Lynda. Detective Lynda Kowalski." 

"Harry," the second one spoke up. He jerked his thumb to the third guy. "Marty." His eyes widened when he recognized Lynda. "Hey, I saw you on the news. You're that new young Detective in the new program, right?" 

Lynda nodded. "So, you like keeping current with events?" Harry nodded. Lynda swivelled in her chair and faced the three suspects. "Look, one question. You all seem like very nice and smart people. Why go into a life of crime when there are other things you can do?" 

"Bad childhood?" Marty suggested. 

"Don't use that as an excuse," Lynda said. "I had a bad childhood. Hell, my mother was gunned down in front of me, but do you see me resorting to crime? No, I decided to do something productive with my life. And look where it got me. What do you really want to do?" 

"Become a teacher," Tom said. 

"Write a book," Harry replied. 

"Sell cars," Mary answered. 

"You guys can still do that," Lynda said. "Well, after you pay your debt to society." She focused her attention back to her computer. "And you're all looking at a lot of time: robbery, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer . . ." 

"Filling out reports doesn't mean you have to talk to the scum," Stanley said as he walked up with Fraser and Ray. 

"Yeah, Lynda," Ray agreed, "you have a lot to learn about becoming a good Detective." 

Lynda finished her reports quickly, saved them, got them printing, then stood up. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but I am a good Detective." She grabbed the reports from her printer. "Jack, Tom, can you get these guys into holding for me?" 

Lynda left to go see Welsh, while the Duck Boys took the three suspects into holding cells. Welsh reviewed her reports, congratulated her, then dismissed her. It was time for her shift to end, so Lynda wasn't too surprised to see some of the Detectives gone, including Ray and 

Stanley. But she was surprised to still see Fraser, standing next to her desk. He was holding some wrapped packages. 

"What are you still doing here?" Lynda asked as she walked back to her desk. She began shutting her computer off. 

"These are for you," Fraser said, handing her the packages. "One is from Ray, one is from your father, and one is from me. We were going to give these to you earlier, but it slipped our minds." 

"Are they still mad at me?" 

"Yes, they are. But don't worry, Lynda, I'll talk to them." 

"Thank you, Fraser." 

Fraser smiled and nodded before leaving. "Good night." He walked out of the Squad Room. 

Lynda finished shutting her computer off, then grabbed her stuff, and walked out, both wolves behind her. Besides the incident with her father and Ray, she considered her first 'day' a success.   
  


* * * *

Lynda opened the door to her apartment, letting herself and the two wolves in. She closed the door, then went to the kitchen. She dropped her things on the kitchen table, then collapsed into one of the chairs. "Whew!" Dief and Regan put their heads on her lap, whining. "Okay, 

okay, I'll get dinner going." 

She got up from her chair and went to her freezer. "What do you guys think of frozen pizza?" Both wolves barked happily and wagged their tails. Lynda smiled. "Okay. Frozen pizza it is." She took a pizza out of the freezer, put it on a pan, tossed it in the oven, then turned the oven on. While the cooked, Lynda went over to the canvas bag and took out the three gifts Fraser had given her. Each was simplistically wrapped in brown paper. 

Lynda opened the first one, the one from her father. It was a silver cigarette lighter. Lynda recognized it as the one her father used to light his cigarettes with, even though he hardly ever smoked around her. There was a small note attached.   
  


_Lynda, I know you might think this is a weird gift to be_

_giving my daughter to celebrate her becoming a Detective,_

_but hear me out. This lighter is very special to me. I've_

_had it with me ever since I first became a Detective. It_

_always seemed to bring me luck. Now, I know you don't_

_need luck, and I know you don't smoke, but I figure it_

_could come in handy anyway. Take care, and I'm very_

_proud of you._   
  


_Dad_   
  


Lynda smiled as she read the note, knowing it was obviously written before today's incident. She put the lighter and note aside, then reached for the gift Ray had gotten her. After tearing the paper off, Lynda could see it was a small leather case. Lynda opened it and a 

small piece of paper fluttered out. Lynda picked it up and read it:   
  


_May we pick many locks together. Congratulations, Lynda._   
  


_Your partner,_   
  


_Ray_   
  


Lynda looked inside the case to see a lock picking set, very similar to the one Ray had leant her about a month ago. Lynda smiled, then set the gift aside. She opened the one Fraser had given her. Inside was a delicately woven dream catcher, with eagle feathers hanging from it. A simple note was attached to it. Lynda read it silently:   
  


_Lynda, I want to first thank you for being such a good friend,_

_and a good student. It is rare in life to meet someone like you,_

_and I feel very blessed and honored. I know that if I had a_

_daughter, I'd want her to be like you. Please accept this_

_token of appreciation and gratitude. This dream catcher_

_will catch all your bad dreams while you sleep, because if_

_anyone deserved only good dreams, it's you, Lynda._   
  


_Fraser_   
  


Lynda delicately held the hand-woven gift and smiled. She knew Fraser cared about her, but she had always thought it was because she was becoming his protégée. She never thought once that he regarded her as a daughter. 

Lynda carefully put the gifts away, then got the pizza out of the oven after it was cooked. She divided it into three pieces, then put each piece on a plate. Balancing them carefully, she went into the living room and put them on the coffee table, the wolves trotting behind her. 

That's when she noticed them. 

There in the center of her table was a bouquet of a dozen red roses, wrapped carefully in tissue paper. Lynda picked up the bouquet, eyebrows raised. She pulled a small card that was tucked inside. It simply read 'Congratulations'. 

"Now, who do you suppose sent these?" she asked. "Obviously not Dad or Ray since they seem to want to be mad at me for now reason." Then, something clicked. She remembered when she had recovered from her bout with amnesia, and how Fraser had gotten her that bouquet of wild flowers. No one else had sent her any. Well, except for Derek. 

Lynda stopped short. She remembered that Derek *did* get her that thornless red rose that time, before she had found out who he really was. A quick glance at the roses showed that they were indeed thornless as well. 

So, who was it? Fraser or Derek? There was enough evidence pointing to either of them sending the flowers. Whoever sent them definitely didn't want to Lynda to know, considering no one informed her that anyone had been in her apartment, and by the unfamiliar handwriting. Only her father, Fraser, and Ray had keys to her apartment. 

Then again, Derek did work for the FBI, so getting access to places wouldn't be difficult for him. But if it had been Derek, then someone would have told her. Unless he asked that his visit not be mentioned, which would make sense, considering how hurt she still was. 

Lynda sighed. "Oh, what's the use?" She took the flowers into the kitchen and put them in a case, then filled it with water. She carefully put it in the center of her kitchen table, then went to join the wolves and eat dinner. 

So what if her father and Ray were mad at her? So what if she couldn't figure out right now where the flowers came from? Oh, she cared, but just not now. She ate her pizza watched a movie with her two furry friends. There would be time to figure out both of those problems. After all, she was a Detective now. There would be time to prove just how good she could be.   
  


TO BE CONTINUED . . . 


End file.
